I’m a method writer. So, I wrote this post from my bathroom floor.

Have you ever thrown up so violently, your tampon shot out of your body like some kind of Nerf dart gun?

In hindsight. I should not have eaten the pasta salad.

It tasted weird.

Like a bandaid that fell off of some sweaty fat guy at the gym.

That should have been a red flag.

Not a sign for me to dump more Italian dressing on it, and have a second helping.

An hour later, just as Blair was finding out Chuck secretly applied to Columbia for her on Gossip Girl, I started to feel it. In my throat.

I tried to will it back into my stomach.

Give me diarrhea, I don’t fucking care, but please, do not come up. For the love of Christ, digest!

I spent the next 12 hours on the bathroom floor.

Andy was still at an evening conference, and after two hours of the boys standing next to me as I hunched over the side of the toilet asking me to PLEASE FROW UP AGAIN MOM, MORE THIS TIME, OMG YOU’RE DOING IT SO AWESOME MAWWWM, CAN I PUT SOME CARS NEAR YOUR FROW UP, WHY ARE YOU PEEING EVERYWHERE, THIS SHIT IS CRAZZZYYYY, I called my mom for help. And pads.

Because tampons don’t cut it when you have food poisoning during your period.

This is my third bout with food poisoning, the previous round being from a questionable burger with relish from Johnny Rockets.

The first, from eating an entire plate of broccoli and warm ranch dip at a family picnic when I was 8.

Unlike my two most recent forms of food poisoning, the repercussions of the broccoli/dip massacre of ’89 weren’t instantaneous. In fact, I went to sleep feeling perfectly fine.

I remember bolting up in bed, hours later, and vomiting all over my sheets, scaring the shit out my cocker spaniel, Mia, who was sleeping soundly across my legs.

I stumbled to the light switch, with every intention of taking off my sheets and puke covered nightgown, and hiding it all in the garbage like nothing had happened.

Nothing to see here, mom. I sleep bareback all the fucking time.

But, when my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw my bed was not only covered with vomit, but blood. And, then I looked down, and so was my nightgown…and my underwear.

I freaked out. Because I was 8. I was vomiting and bleeding and legally capable of getting pregnant if anyone put sperm on me.

I tried to come up with some sort of plan, but I just kept vomitting. Again. And again.

I was in over my head.

I fumbled my way down the hall to my mom’s room, dragging my feet through hot puddles of puke.

I wanted to be all classy and discreet about it, but…

MOM, I’M VOMITING AND I STARTED MY PERIOD AND I THINK I MIGHT DIE PLEASE DON’T TELL DAD.

She put me in the bathroom so I could puke up copious amounts of broccoli in a more wipeable environment, while she cleaned up the hall. And my carpet. And my bed.

Then, she came in the bathroom and had a very lovely conversation with me about how pads work in which I WANTED TO STAB MYSELF IN THE FACE.

I went back to bed, with a pad in my Day of the Week underwear and a bucket next to my head.

My mom woke me up the next morning to tell me Mia was in heat.

The vomit was mine.

The blood was not.

I was humiliated.

I kept the pad on for the whole day anyways, just in case Mia’s dog cycle aligned with my person cycle. But it didn’t.

My mom had Mia spayed a month later.

Because waking up to find a little girl standing next to your bed covered in spoiled ranch dressing and dog period is something you never want to experience twice.

Unless you are my creepy third cousin, Aaron.

Which is why he isn’t allowed to have pets or live near elementary schools.

Hi Heather! It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just remember not to look into the bowl after your done, it just makes it worse.

I’m presenting you… yes you, with the Sunshine Award.

You are not just a talented popular blogger, but a wonderful person in general. You show your true colors and don’t let anyone get the worst of you. And if they do, then they shall never to do it again.

If you have a moment, check out Desperate for Coffee to look at the post.

Mine was the fish tacos from the Grey Goose in Dallas. The night before my first law school final. Holy Toledo, Batman. If you’ve never taken a three-hour essay exam while hurling your guts up every 20 minutes, you should try it. Good times. Needless to say, I did NOT do well on that exam.

I am thinking maybe just mabye you should be a tad more careful with what you consume. If however you chose to let my comment fall on deaf ears I suggest you place a target with a point system behind you so when you are tampan nerf shooting you can at least turn it into an event and keep score. Then like put in your initials and be all proud.

Holy shit I love you. I got here via stumbleupon, and I’m sitting in front of the laptop since I cannot move due to food poisoning. Perfect!
My best friend/coworker made a St. Patrick’s Day feast for my Irish family a couple of years ago. We gave them all salmonella poisoning, and we both had to call in sick to work. I don’t think there is anything that can put a stop to your day like food poisoning. Dog period though, that can’t really be beat.

Ahhhhhh yes; The forces at work are Phenomenal…..Puking through my nose and wondering if I’ll ever get to breath in again are not to be forgotten. The pukers mantra…”I’ll never drink again, I’ll never drink again, I…..uuuuuuuuuuu’llllllll nnnnnn uuuuuuuuvr drink aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, g,g,g,g,aaaaaaaaaaaaai, nuh, nuh,!!!”

Found your blog today through a person I follow on Twitter. Can I just say, I love, love, love your writing. Funny, personal, quirky, full of insight. This post resonated on so many levels for me. Thank you!

Girl i laughed so hard at this, seriously i have just been reading your blog for about 2 months and i have never laughed as hard at any blog but yours. My last bout of food poisoning was on my Honeymoon (8 years ago) , 2 bites of OBVIOUSLY undercooked chicken from a TGI Fridays at about oh 1 am and i was sick for 6 hours the next day. (wasn’t obviously undercooked until 2 bites in, but at that point it was bloody, and cold…) . First time i ever had the joy that is food poisoning was on vacation to Panama City Beach when i was about 8, my dad and i shared a piece of Key Lime Pie and then a barf bucket a few hours later, sucked b/c we both lost a day of precious beach time!! I have become the food borne illness Nazi since then…..really…. i’m not kidding…

Thanks for some other informative blog. Where else may just I get that type of information written in such an ideal means? I have a mission that I am just now operating on, and I’ve been on the glance out for such information.

I don’t know how I missed this post…but omg I feel so bad for you. One time my aunt had food poisoning…She had violent diarrhea and vomiting…While she was throwing up she blasted poop all over the shower curtain…

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[…] I’m a method writer. So, I wrote this post from my bathroom floor. | Barefoot Foodie barefootfoodie.com Have you ever thrown up so violently, your tampon shot out of your body like some kind of Nerf dart gun? In hindsight. I should not have eaten the pasta […]

[…] plain old average every day sick. Oh, and I got my period. Which reminds me of the best line Barefoot Foodie ever wrote – “Have you ever thrown up so violently, your tampon shot out of your body […]

[…] I told him about how I hit puberty at 8, and how I thought I started my period once but it was dog period, and then how I had to change in the stall during gym, because I was the only one in 3rd grade with […]